Well, he is gone, on a train west, just like all those pioneers of yesteryear. A dark, rainy, foggy drive up north to the station, and a wife wanting to get home to bed. I didn't want it to ever end, I didn't want him to ever leave. My insides tore at my self, fighting every urge to go grab him back, to hold on longer. God will I miss having his mug around. 18 years and a month or two have sure burned his life into mine.
My wife knew enough Friday to acknowledge that when I opened the refrigerator door and saw the almost empty 2% milk, I'd probably start crying....only the 5 or 6th time that day. Not bad.
Today I did my usual saturday morn grocery store visit, which I've been doing since pre-kids. Of course, for many years they always went with me. Not now. I lasted until about the banannas until the tears came; one of my friends at the deli got 'it', when I could barely talk and breathe; so many ares that just slayed me. the tortellinis were probably the hardest, I'll never see them again w/out thinking of him.
Wife off to her volunteer work for most of the day- me, I'm just lost, wondering about. Too cold to this, not hot enough for that. I wrote a note to family saying this is like being in a 'forced retirement' after having LOVED your job for over 21 years. I guess the better part is that I know both boys are doing what they are suposed to eb doing; I know God holds them in his/ her hands; I know the wife and I still love each other and will have fun w/ the enxt book of our lives...However, now I am sad. I earned the right to feel this, and now I'm trying to let it milk me for all I'm worth. Its gotta get better.
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